Death Rises at Night
by CharmofLove
Summary: Severus Snape wants as little to do with Harry Potter as possible, but when the Dark Lord finds a way to kidnap Harry, Dumbledore requests more than Severus is willing to give. (Includes some background history of James & Lily; set in what would be Harry'
1. Default Chapter

-DEATH RISES AT NIGHT- 

by CharmofLove

© August 20, 2002

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its entities belong to J.K Rowling.  No infringement intended.

* * * 

Halloween . . . 1981 . . . 10:31 PM 

             "It's happening."

             The wind came and went, pushing fallen leaves through the thick darkness that was the night.  One man stood rigidly still, not moving beneath an empty, starless sky.  It was Halloween, the year was marked at 1981 and a deciding factor had been put into play.

            Severus Snape closed his eyes in mental agony.  He took a deep, thick breath and tried to push aside the pain, fear and regret that toyed with his foul disposition this night.

             "There was nothing I could do.  Too late . . ." he stated bitterly to himself, his words being lost to the silence that surrounded him.  He was lucky to be alive to say them.  No one was supposed to leave the Dark Lord's fold; no one ever had and if they had even toyed with the idea it usually resulted in an untimely and messy death.  But Severus had toyed, oh yes.  And he had pushed and he had survived.  But at what cost?

             "Lily _Potter_," his voice caressed the first half and practically spit out the last half of the name.  "You had to go and marry a fool.  A fool who put your life in danger with his ideals, his courage his –" Love?  Snape stopped and practically choked.  He would never acknowledge it.

             '_She fell in love with the enemy, left your friendship behind and began something new – complete with a son.  You were lucky to have known her, but she could never have been yours.'_

            His heart clenched at that foul voice in his head.  "Death rises at night," Snape spat out.  He looked up to see a barn owl fly over him in the night's sky, its call strong and piercing.  With that sign he left, only to begin again.

* * *

**The Present, the summer before Harry's 5th Year . . . **

            "BOY!"

            The sound of Uncle Vernon's voice shaking the rafters of Number Four, Privet Drive, awakened Harry Potter at once.  Why him?  Why was it always about him?

            There was no doubt that Dudley would sleep through the family mayhem with a rather conscious smile.

            It wasn't as if Harry had slept well at all last night.  Dark, roving nightmares continued to plague him.  Past events and the death of Cedric Diggory had yet to release him from the internal anguish that ravaged his heart and mind.  But only Harry was aware of how much pain he was suffering as no one at Privet Drive could possibly care if he held emotional scars, let alone physical scars, or not.  No, he was on his own.

            From the smell of bacon and muffins floating about in the air, Aunt Petunia was making breakfast and would chalk her husband's ill manners up to just another day in dealing with _the freak_.

             "GET DOWN HERE!"

            Harry sighed, quickly pushed back the covers and was exiting his bedroom when his Uncle's voice had the last say.

             "NOW!"

            Harry reluctantly took step after step until he was downstairs and entering the kitchen.  "Yes, Uncle Vernon?" There was a dull resignation to his voice.

             "Well, what took you so long?!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed, the fat that had settled around his face after many years of extended meals jiggled with each punctuated word.  "Thought if you waited until the last moment we'd forget you're here? Not likely!" he laughed the last bit.

             "No, Uncle Vernon," Harry said with only a smudge of irritation in his voice.  He pushed his round, black glasses down his nose to rub at his eyes that were still hazy with sleep.  The sunlight of yet another morning was streaming in through the kitchen windows to compete with his Aunt and Uncle's dark, foul moods.

             "This," he held up an envelope, that had a black wax seal, and waved it about in the air as though it were a hankie, "this just came for you!"

             "A letter?" Harry reached out to take it but was thwarted when his Uncle snagged it back to clutch it in both of his hands.

             "And do you know how it got here?  Hmm?  Can you possibly guess?!"

            There was a rage broiling behind those words.

            Harry winced, "By owl?"

             "Indeed!  Right you are, Harry.  Right – you – are.  One of those BLOODY BIG BIRDS brought it in through the open bedroom window this morning! Pushed the screen right in!  Four o'clock I tell you.  FOUR. IN.  THE.  MORNING."

             "I- I didn't know – I didn't ask –" Harry stammered.

             "It's from that crazy school of yours . . ." Vernon went and pulled out a tea-colored sheet of stationary from the envelope that had heavy, black, scrawled ink running the course of it.  He had taken the liberty of opening yet another one of Harry's letters.  "That Dumbleday, Dumbledoo, er Dumbdee," his eyes scanned rapidly over the letter in search of the name, "whomever! Wants you to stay with that _Wessley_, family."

             "**Weasley." Harry corrected through clenched teeth.  Then the words sunk in a second later.  "Dumbledore wants me to leave Privet Drive?  He wants me to stay at the Burrow?" Harry asked, his confusion and questions building by the second.  "But, why?"**

             "As if I would know.  He was rather vague, which Petunia and I did not appreciate at all, did we," he muttered over his shoulder to his wife who was busy cooking and who had yet to speak to Harry at all since his return from his fourth year at Hogwarts.  "Take Harry for the summer," Vernon continued, "Send Harry back for term, take Harry, send Harry – take, send, take, send – IT'S DRIVING US BLOODY MAD!  You boy, are too much trouble."

             "I'm sorry, I-"

             "Pack your things."

            Harry gawked, his heart swelling with happiness but then doubt edged its way on in.  "Perhaps I ought to send an owl back – just to make sure –" he stopped at as his Uncles face colored towards an eggplant shade of purple.  

             "WH-" his Uncles stuttered"  "WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT SAYING –"

            Harry winced and backed up.  He had let the 'send an owl back' slip.  It just wasn't in his nature to cover up every magical detail of who he was – even with the Dursley's yelling and screaming at him about the 'abnormalities' of it all the time.

             "Sorry!  Just – I mean," Harry started.  How could he explain to the Dursley's that since the end of his fourth year he had to be on guard against an evil wizard who wanted to torture and kill him.

            Vernon gave him a stern look.  "I _know_ what I read, boy," he hissed.  "If I was trying to get rid of you I'd have bloody well done it by now."

            Harry didn't take that as a kind of reassurance.  Sighing, he nodded his head, "So it's from Hogwarts – and I'm to go to Ron's then?"  He smiled at the thought as he'd be spending his fifteenth birthday with Ron and his family, then.  The Weasley's were a family that made him feel comfortable and that made Harry feel, well, _loved_ – unlike the current one he was with.  Blood, after all, wasn't everything.

             "Brilliant, isn't he," Vernon threw over his shoulder at Petunia again.  "Yes, of course you're going.  The less we have of you the better.  Do you know how much it cost to have that tail removed from Dudley's hind-side?  And that tongue incident – Marge gave him a chocolate bar at Christmas and he just about had a nervous breakdown.  We've been keeping track of the expenses.  You boy are more than in debt to us – in more ways than one!" Vernon shook his finger.

            Even as the words registered with Harry he still couldn't help but choke on his own laughter.  Dudley was his cousin by birth; they had lived together since they were both children but neither one of them could tolerate the other – and for good reasons.  The main one being that Dudley used to live to bully Harry.  But now that Harry had been proclaimed a wizard, Dudley had learned to keep his distance most of the time.

             "But _why_ am I going?  And are they coming _here_ to get me or-?" Harry asked, unable to stop his inquisitive mind.  He crept closer, trying to peer through or down at the paper that was clutched in the hands of his Uncle, a man who felt more like Snape's next of kin than Harry's own.

            Vernon jerked the paper away again, far from Harry's green eyes, "Said it was 'requested of him.'  Didn't say by whom and we're not about to ask.  Your lot is _always _up to something, boy.  And we're supposed to drop you off at that King's Cross Station early tomorrow morning.  So that's where you'll go."

            Harry swallowed.  On the one hand he was absolutely thrilled with the prospect of spending the rest of the summer with his best friend, however on the other hand – something just didn't sit right with him.  But how could he argue with his Uncle?  

            Family was an interesting thing to Harry.  He had many questions and too few answers.  Even Dumbledore had not tried to hide the fact that there were things Harry didn't know, things that certain people were not willing to tell him – yet.

            Harry refocused and realized that both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were staring at him.  

             "Well?!?!?!  Don't just stand there!  Go pack!  We're to have you there by nine o'clock in the morning.  And _no_ flying your birdie ahead of time to those Weasles – would cause a commotion in the neighborhood, no doubt," Vernon muttered.  "I'm sure Mrs. Weasle knows you're coming, though why she wants you I haven't the faintest idea."

             "WEASLEY," Harry stated again. He left the kitchen before the Dursley's would change their minds.  He was willing to risk almost anything in order to spend a summer with Ron and his family.  With a deep breath he nodded and then left the kitchen with hopeful thoughts that maybe the summer would take a turn for the better.

            Harry raced up the stairs, nearly colliding with a half-awake Dudley clad in teddy-bear pajamas.  "Sorry!  Won't be seeing much of you again!  But I'll live!" he laughed at Dudley's confusion and continued his flight back up to his room.  His birthday and the rest of the summer with the Weasley's!  Things couldn't be any better.

* * * 

Continued in Chapter 2 


	2. Chapter 2 Waiting

-DEATH RISES AT NIGHT- 

by CharmofLove

Chapter Two 

© November 19, 2002

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its entities belong to J.K Rowling.  No infringement intended.

Harry was sitting on the steps, packed and ready to go when Vernon Dursley hobbled out of his bedroom at 7:30 that Sunday morning with a sleepy snarl.  He scowled at his young nephew and took his time getting dressed.  

Harry took note that Uncle Vernon was deliberately moving as slow as Snape was in forming a sly smile and he sighed.  His stomach twisted with excitement and nervousness – excitement at soon being able to see his best friend Ron and nervousness in knowing that something, and probably just about everything, was going to go wrong.

"We have to be there at nine o'clock," Harry dared to say loudly enough for Vernon to hear him in the bathroom. "Exactly." 

Vernon Dursley stuck his head out from behind the door of the bathroom, "Don't – you – rush – me – boy.  I know perfectly well what we're supposed to do and I'm just as happy to be rid of you as you are of me.  Now, go make yourself useful and take your-- your _things_ out to the car."

Harry was only too happy to comply as he dragged his trunk and Hedwig in her cage out to his Uncle's car, safely loading them in the back seat (though he was sure his Uncle would demand his 'bloody bird' be stored in the trunk).

What seemed like eternity and thirty minutes later, they were on their way driving to Kings Cross Station.  Harry watched as the small houses that composed his neighborhood passed by outside of his window.  He watched as the sky turned dark, the clouds gathering for what was probably going to be a rather impressive storm.

"Now," Uncle Vernon began, interrupting the quiet and Harry rolled his eyes.  "When you're with the- the- what are they called? The Weasles, do not contact us.  Do not say _anything _about us.  If they ask – you can't tell them!  Keep your mouth shut."

"Why do you think they'd be interested in you?" Harry drawled.  

Vernon sputtered.  "I know your kind, I know the sick pleasure they got out of tormenting Dudley last time!  The less they have on us the better."

"And what of your torment of me," Harry asked.  As soon as the words were out of his mouth he couldn't believe he had said them.  He shocked even himself.  Where had that come from?  That verbal acknowledgement of the neglect they had put him through for almost fifteen years now?

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Vernon roared, the car swerved and Harry cringed.  "HOW DARE YOU IMPLY – " 

The train station was only a block away.  It was now or never, it was all building up and he had to finish what he had started.

Years of suppressed thoughts, emotional stress and physical suffering surged through, "I don't _need_ to 'imply' anything!  The truth of the matter is – I am sick and tired of _your_ abuse and I'll tell whomever I please!"  Had he just said _that_?  Harry could feel himself shaking.

            Vernon Dursley slammed on the break and threw open his door, charging out and around to open Harry's car door as well.  

Harry saw his Uncle charging towards him and all he wanted to do was duck and cover.

 Vernon Dursley's hand snatched painfully onto his nephews arm as he tugged him out of the automobile and practically threw him onto the ground.  Harry was shocked and winded at everything that had transpired.  He stayed on the ground, sitting there, watching his Uncle and wondering . . . _wondering_. . .

Vernon Dursley shoved Harry's trunk out of the backseat and set the owl in her cage on the ground with such a clatter that it made her flap her wings in fury.

He bent down, staring at his nephew who sat on the ground, his eyes wide with fear, "And I am sick and tired of your _existence_."

Harry's heart clenched and he closed his eyes.  The sad thing was, Harry himself was almost in agreement with his Uncle.  He was tired of it all.

"Don't come to Privet Drive ever again.  Tell that – that old fool at that crazy school of yours that other arrangements have to be made.  It's a shame, you know," he smiled and Harry knew that wasn't a good sign.  "A shame that you were ever born.  Maybe then your parents would be alive, hm?"

Harry's jaw dropped.  '_How did he know – how could he tell – what I fear the most,'_ he watched with a frown as his Uncle got back into his car and drove off.  Harry looked around, no one was paying him any mind.  What few people were at or near the train station that Sunday morning were either preoccupied with themselves or their normal every-day scenarios.  He seriously doubted they could handle anything out of the ordinary.  

Sighing and pushing himself off of the ground, he brushed off the dirt that clung to his already dingy clothes and soothed Hedwig as best he could.

"Well, at least we made it on time," he said glumly to his white, snowy owl.  "Come on then," he picked up her cage and proceeded to slowly drag his heavy trunk across the street to the train station.  The dark clouds above him in the sky opened themselves up and rain poured down to soak everything in its path.

* * * 

Harry sat on his trunk and glanced at the large clock that was posted above the entry doors to the station.  9:11 am.  He sighed and scratched his head, making his already unruly hair go even wilder.  A flash of lightening illuminated the dim station and then the thunder broke through, making everything around him shake with a fury.  

_'I know something isn't right,'_ Harry's stomach dropped as the words floated through his mind.  _'So why am I not doing anything about it?'_  It was as if he – didn't care?  

Harry looked at the lock on his trunk.  His Uncle had refused to remove it and Harry hadn't thought much of that since he was faithful Ron's family would take care of it with a simple _alohomora_.  But now, he wished he had at least tried to pick the lock – his wand and other useful things were still stored inside of it.  At least when Uncle Vernon had practically slammed Hedwig's cage down outside earlier, the smaller lock that had kept her prisoner had been broken enough to pry loose.  He had free access to his owl – that was a fortunate thing in a rather unfortunate situation.

"Excuse me, excuse me, M'am," he said from where he sat as an elderly old lady passed him by.  "Do you have a quill and –" he paused – that was all wrong and she was giving him _that_ look, "Er, I mean do you have a pen and piece of paper I might borrow?"

"I might," she replied gruffly, a bit unsettled at being interrupted by a stranger, let alone a young boy who was sitting in the station all alone with nothing to do.  "Here," she thrust the two articles at him after having dug around in her stained and torn purse.  

"Thanks," Harry looked down at the paper, trying to think of what to write. "It'll only take a minute and I'll– " Harry started to say but when he looked up the woman was gone.  No one had any time anymore.  _'Let alone me,'_ Harry snorted to himself.  It could all end any minute.

Harry set the tip of the pen to the paper and watched as the ink began to flow . . .

                                    _Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_                                    I am writing to you to let you know that my Uncle received a letter that he claimed to have come from _

_                                    Hogwarts – from you.  I sincerely hope you sent that letter, Sir as I am currently at Kings Cross Station   _

_                                    waiting for Ron and his family  to pick me up and take me back to the burrow as you requested._

_                                                Uncle Vernon  would not let me see that letter so I was unable to try and discern whether or not it really _was_ from _

_                                                you.  As you already know of the events at the end of last  year you can already guess why I am suspicious of anything _

_that would take me away from Privet Drive.  At this point, however, there's not much I can do but wait.  _

_The Weasley's are late – so I am even worrying about their safety as well as my own.  I know that Privet Drive _

_was to be a place of protection for me but it Has failed to do so – though through no fault of yours or my own.  _

_In the meantime, I wanted to make sure That one way or another you _did_ know of the events that had transpired. _

_I am going to go wait by platform 9 ¾ since it is the only place I know of in the area that has a connection to our world._

_                                                Sincerely,_

                                                Harry Potter 

            Harry walked towards a dark side of the station, opened Hedwig's cage, and tied the note to her leg.  "Take this to Professor Dumbledore," he whispered.  "But don't let too many muggles see you take flight.  Fly as quick as you can, Hedwig.  Something isn't right," he stroked her white feathers and she nipped gently at his fingers before flying quietly away, careful to stay in the shadows and out of muggle sight.

Harry sighed and debated, once again whether platform 9 ¾ was the place to be.  Then again – what were his options?  He didn't know where Diagon Alley was in relation to the train station; he couldn't flag the knight bus in front of early morning pedestrians with or without a wand and he knew that if there was an attack planned on him that anywhere he went inside of London would leave him vulnerable as he did not have the protection of Privet Drive anymore.  All he had was himself.  With that thought in tow, he went to find a trolley for his trunk and then set off to wait in between platforms 9 and 10 for _someone_, _anyone_ to come.

* * * 

**Continued in Chapter 3**


End file.
